


Valiant

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 00:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21365227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: University’s tough, but Gladio’s tougher.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 9
Kudos: 70





	Valiant

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

If there’s one thing Gladiolus hates about university, it’s the homework. Some days he finds himself so overloaded that he can’t even go home in good conscience, because he knows he’ll just chuck it all in the far corner and ignore it. It all feels so _useless_. His father insists he earn at least one degree, and he wants to set a good example for Iris, but realistically, he’s going to be the royal shield no matter what his grades are. When he’s out on the field slaying daemons in the name of his king, no one’s going to care whether or not he graduated.

Iris will care, and that’s the sole reason he lingers in the hallway, long after most classes have ended and the bulk of the student population has gone home. It would probably be smart to study in the library, maybe the courtyard, maybe even the cafeteria—anywhere with tables. But those places will still be busy, and Gladiolus knows that if there’s any distraction at all, his brain will focus on that instead. His textbooks are mind numbing. So he sits on the floor of a third-story hallway, back to the open window, staring at the blank sheet of paper that will eventually become his essay.

He can still hear the occasional snippet of passing conversation through the window. He should probably shut it, even though he enjoys the cool breeze. He’s just about to when he hears a woman’s voice bark, “Loser!”

“Yeah, what a nerd, ya know?” someone else joins in, laughing loudly, only to cut off with a sudden ‘oof’.

A smoother voice joins in, “I guess even a royal paycheck can’t buy you personality. Or don’t they pay you to lick the prince’s boots?”

Gladiolus stiffens, and then he hears the nail in the coffin: Ignis dryly answering, “You’ve just proven my decision to turn you down utterly correct.”

The last voice splutters, “I didn’t even want to go out with you anyway, Chicken-wuss! I was totally messing with you!”

“Idiot!”

“We should teach him a lesson, ya know?”

Gladiolus doesn’t need to hear anymore. The paper and textbook both topple out of his lap as he shoots to his feet, swinging around to face the window—down in the courtyard, he can see the top of Ignis’ well-manicured head facing off against three bullies. The blond in the front looks about ready to punch him out, but it’s the meathead on his left and the wicked looking woman on his right that really make Gladiolus’ blood run cold. The dark-haired titan of a man is already punching his hand into his fist: the intention couldn’t be clearer. 

Gladiolus’ chest constricts. Without a second thought, he takes off down the hallway. He doesn’t even stop to grab his bag. He takes the stairs two at a time, rushing so fast that he can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He practically winds himself in the process, but he doesn’t care—if he’s too late to stop Ignis from being beaten up, he’ll never forgive himself. 

He dashes his way down three landings, races through a corridor, and finally bursts outside. He stumbles to a halt in front of the group of four, which rapidly becomes a group of two, because the two students who were hanging back area already running away.

Gladiolus blinks. The blond man is on the ground, Ignis’ foot on the square of his back. Ignis is breathing a little hard, the collar of his shirt askew, his bag on the ground, but otherwise, he looks perfectly in control. The man on the ground is flushed with anger, but as soon as Ignis lifts his foot, the blond rolls away and pushes to his feet, hurriedly taking off after his friends.

Then Ignis notices Gladiolus, blinking dazedly at him.

“Gladio.”

“Iggy.”

Ignis lets out a huff of breath. He finger-combs his already perfect hair into place and straightens out his glasses. Then he picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder. On his second look, he must notice how hard Gladiolus is panting. He asks, “Are you alright?”

“I thought... I heard...” He splutters off into nothing. 

“Ah,” Ignis notes, before quirking a faint smile. “You heard. I’m sorry I didn’t turn out to be a damsel in distress after all. I’m sure your rescue would have been brilliant.”

“You’re not a damsel,” Gladiolus agrees, before blurting out, “You’re fucking _hot_.”

Ignis blinks. He looks mildly surprised, but it’s true—he’s never been cooler. He just took out three bullies without even knocking his glasses off. For that moment, he’s the hottest nerd Gladiolus has ever known. 

When Ignis recovers, he asks, “Ah... would you like a ride home?”

“Would you like to get dinner?”

Ignis pauses again, only to split into a warm smile and answer, “Yes.”


End file.
